


Folle Ivresse

by ajremix



Category: Hatoful Kareshi | Hatoful Boyfriend
Genre: Gijinka, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 20:26:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1701422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajremix/pseuds/ajremix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the <a href="http://hatofulkink.dreamwidth.org/277.html?thread=147221#cmt147221">kinkmeme</a>.  Ryouta finds himself in the employment of Sakuya.  Sexy things ensue.  Eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Folle Ivresse

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from 'Je Crois Entendre Encore' because I couldn't think of anything better.

It all starts with Ryouta saying, "That doesn't sound too hard," and Sakuya replying, to paraphrase, "You're hired." In a slightly larger scope, it actually starts when Sakuya explains to Hiyoko that his personal maid got pregnant and retired, leaving the Le Bel heir with no one to clean his personal quarters.

"Why don't you clean them yourself?" Hiyoko asks in that straightforward manner of hers. "You've gotten pretty good at it."

Only Sakuya can make it appear that he has feathers to ruffle with indignation. "Don't be preposterous! I am far too busy to waste my time with such a task as _cleaning_. That is why I have a maid!"

"Not anymore you don't."

Ryouta, chewing thoughtfully on a slice of apple, asks, "Is that all she does? Clean?"

"She had been in my family's employment for many years," was the imperious reply. "She had been a floor maid, cleaning all the living quarters in the main wing. Once she married, however, she requested only partial employment and, as she has always been in good standing with my family, she stayed on to clean my rooms only."

" _Rooms_? How many rooms do you have?"

"I merely have three. A bedroom, a sitting room and a personal washroom."

Hiyoko and Ryouta exchange slightly disturbed glances. It's quite possible Sakuya's personal area is larger then their respective houses. Possibly combined. "Well," the dark haired boy says slowly, sounding the idea out, "if it's just three rooms," three very large rooms, he has no doubt, "it doesn't sound too hard."

"The task itself requires no skill beyond that of cleanliness and reliability. The vetting process for working within the Le Bel household, however, is quite rigorous unless one has recommendations from a reliable source."

"So hire Ryouta."

Both boys give Hiyoko equally baffled looks.

" _Me_?"

"Kawara? For what purpose?"

Hiyoko kicks her long legs out under the cafeteria table and shrugs. "You need a new maid, Ryouta's good at cleaning and you know him. Besides, Ryouta could always use more money, right?"

He bites his lip, automatically thinking about what little was left over after hospital bills and utilities. It'd be nice to actually have something for himself for once, or to save up in case of emergencies. "Well... yeah, that's true. I don't know if I'd have time with school and the cafe, though." When his eyes flicker to Sakuya, the fair haired teen is looking at him with something almost like consideration on his face.

"It is a possibility. You would be given a paid trial period before I decide to take you on as an official hire. As it is merely cleaning you will only be required to come in twice a week. Being in the Le Bel's employment is not an easily gained prestige. Be honored for even the consideration."

"Thanks," he says, without meaning an ounce of it.

~*~*~*~

The details of scheduling and how to actually enter the Le Bel grounds were established after class and, a few days later, Ryouta finds himself being hustled through the servant's entrance and into the mansion proper. He's met by an imposing, dark haired man named Albert, the head butler, who leads the way to the main wing where the 'important' members of the Le Bel family reside. The fact that Sakuya's more aggravating attitude seems to have been learned actually makes Ryouta feel a little better about the whole thing; because there was still a chance for Sakuya to _un_ learn it.

Up beyond possibly the most opulent staircase in existence, Albert quietly walks them passed a large, decorative door to another, slightly smaller and less decorative one. Albert raps his knuckles against it, the sound sharp despite being clad in a black glove and Ryouta can barely hear the commanding 'enter' coming from within.

Albert opens the door, inclines his head and continues his state of dispassion as he states, "Kawara Ryouta has arrived, sir."

"Send him in."

Ryouta steps in as Albert steps back out, door closing firmly as he leaves. The room Ryouta finds himself in is large and actually tastefully decorated. It's light and airy and it's definitely Sakuya's room because Ryouta can see the resemblance between it and the student council room from the rare times he actually peeks in.

Sakuya is behind a large desk stacked with papers, books and a computer, and he has, of all things, a quill pen in his hand. "Kawara," he peers at a large clock across the room, "you are early."

"I want to make sure I'm on time for work," Ryouta attempts not to fidget. He doesn't know why he's feeling oddly nervous, especially when Sakuya actually seems relaxed for once. The heavy coat and suit jacket are gone, hanging up on the intricate coat rack by the door and even his tie is off. The large, possibly leather seat hugs around Sakuya's body, softening the straight line of his back and easing the harsh angle of his shoulders and he really _is_ relaxed and Ryouta can't help but marvel at that.

"A commendable attitude," Sakuya agrees. He places the quill on the desk and reclines back, folding his hands together and even the cold, distant expression eases. Everyone needs their own personal space to feel comfortable, Ryouta supposes. "The trial period will last a month. You will be cleaning the sitting room and washroom only. There is a uniform in the washroom for you. I will have Albert show you where the cleaning supplies are kept."

"Sure," and Ryouta should have known that, even relaxed, Sakuya has no time for pointless smalltalk. It's actually comforting in a way; Ryouta wouldn't have a clue how to deal with a Sakuya that actually wants to _talk_. He goes through the unassuming door Sakuya indicated toward and finds a garment bag hanging on the back of the door. Ryouta takes the supplied clothing out and then sticks his head back into the sitting room to say, "Sakuya, this is a dress."

"You are a maid," is the half-distracted reply as Sakuya is back to scribbling whatever with his feathered pen. "And that is a maid uniform."

"But it's a dress."

"All the maids employed in the Le Bel household are female. Tosaka had assured me that you have little problem wearing dresses in your other places of employment so I saw little need in specifying a male maid uniform."

"Ah. Of course." Ryouta can't help but wonder if Sakuya is actually that simple or if he just doesn't care. "Makes perfect sense."

But it is true, he doesn't have a problem wearing dresses if it's necessary and a uniform is a uniform. The dress is rather boring, actually, being plain black with straight sleeves and simple apron. The only embellishment is on the pocket of the apron, embroidered with dark thread in an elegant, abstract design. The stockings supplied are dark and the shoes low-heeled and Ryouta doesn't think about how exactly Sakuya got everything in the right size.

When he steps out, Albert is standing patiently at the door and Sakuya doesn't lift up his head as Ryouta follows the butler out. Sakuya still doesn't look up when Ryouta returns with cleaning supplies and begins working, just as he doesn't when Ryouta takes the supplies away, changes or leaves. He's shown out the servants' entrance by Albert who presses an envelope into his hands.

~*~*~*~

The next day at school Ryouta sidles up to Sakuya's desk and holds out the check he'd received with the Le Bel name and crest emblazoned on it. "Are you sure this is right?" He hisses lowly, as if someone might actually attempt to mug him in the middle of St. Pigeonation for a check in his name.

Sakuya's regular sternness is back, "Of course it is. Do you think I'm foolish enough to make a mistake when it comes to paying employees?"

"But... this _can't_ be right! The amount is..."

Ryouta's concerns are already being waved off. "It is merely a tithe. If we decide to officially hire you, I assure you your salary would be much more accommodating."

Red eyes go wide. "I'd get paid _more_?" This 'tithe' is already equal to a day and a half's work at the cafe!

"The Le Bels believe in treating our employees well. Asides from being well paid, we also offer medical and dental insurance, match college funds for children and offer paid sick days." Sakuya's eyes glimmer with satisfaction. "A well taken care of employee is a loyal one."

"Then... if I get hired by you, would medical insurance also cover my mother?"

"She is your dependent, is she not? You are her sole financial provider?"

"Yeah."

"Then yes, she would."

Ryouta can't stop the wide grin from crossing his face at the very idea. Scratch whatever previous comments he might've thought, he was _very_ honored for the chance to work for the Le Bel household.

~*~*~*~

The second day as Sakuya's trial maid is much like the first in that after acknowledging Ryouta's presence, Sakuya continues to work on whatever it is at his desk. It isn't long after, when Ryouta had cleaned the washroom and finished dusting off the light fixtures, shelves and every other ledge he could find, that Sakuya finally leans back and stretches. Ryouta sees the movement reflected in the large mirror opposite the desk and he can't help be a little fascinated at the pull of Sakuya's shirt and the shadow his collar makes against his neck.

"Kawara," even Sakuya's light, smooth voice is startling in contrast to the silence that had fallen, "bring me a pot of tea from the kitchen. A floral rooibos should suffice."

Ryouta pauses, "A... what?"

The look he gets is much more like the one he's used to from school: impatient and unamused. "Fetch my tea, plebian."

"Right, okay, sorry!" He wants to say something about how getting drinks isn't part of his job, but memories of the discussion the day before has Ryouta holding his tongue.

He's trying to remember the way to the kitchen when he comes across Yuuya, his room on the ground floor, closer to the permanent servants' quarters than any other member of the family. At first Yuuya just gives him a grin and a nod and Ryouta has one second of hope that he hasn't been recognized when he's stopped by a, "Hey- don't you go to my school?"

Ryouta's elbows tuck in close to his sides, ears down around his shoulders.

Yuuya's eyes go wide, sparkling behind his glasses with recognition. "You're in Sakuya's class, aren't you? You're friends with Hiyoko-chan!"

"Yeah," is the not-quite-tonally-neutral reply.

"What are you doing here? Dressed like a maid, at that?"

Heat creeps up Ryouta's neck and over his cheeks and he tries to convince himself that he can't look Yuuya in the eyes because it's impolite for a servant to do so. "Sakuya was kind enough to offer me a job as his personal maid."

"Kind. Right." Yuuya eyes the outfit, not at all impressed with the conservative length of the hem or the crisp professionalism of the cut. "And the dress?"

"It's the same one all the maids wear, right? And since I'm a maid..."

Yuuya laughs and Ryouta's face feels hot all over. "Right, right, of course. How silly of me." Hands stuffed carelessly into the pockets of his pants, the older teen leans back and asks, "So what are you doing out and about? Done cleaning already?"

"Sakuya asked me to get him some tea."

"I'm sure asking was what he did. Out of curiosity, do you even know where the kitchen is?" The wince gives the answer away. Yuuya laughs in his throat and waves Ryouta over. "Come on, I'll show you. Wouldn't do to have you get lost here so soon. Sakuya would have to organize a search party for you and blame everything on me."

"Thanks, Sakazaki-senpai."

"Don't thank me yet. The cooks will be starting preparations for dinner and I'm not going attempt to flag them down for you."

Once he finds himself standing in the doorway of the kitchen, Ryouta understands just what Yuuya meant. Apparently preparing for dinner means getting a shipment of fresh foods at the same time, a steady stream of people going in and out, carrying things, yelling orders and generally trying to muscle chaos into order. At one point a woman with a hairnet, ascot and chef's uniform catches sight of him and comes to a halt. Even from where he stands Ryouta can smell the plums in the box she's holding and wow do they smell good. He's so caught up in it, he completely misses the incredulous up-and-down she gives him.

"Can I help you?" She asks brusquely and Ryouta jumps a little.

"Oh! Um, hello! I'm a... I'm Kawara Ryouta, Sakuya's new maid."

An eyebrow raises at that. "That so? He always was a little strange. What d'ya need?"

"Sakuya wanted me to get him tea? Something floral and... starting with an 'r'?"

She laughs, taking pity on Ryouta's helpless expression. "Don't worry, hun. I've been here long enough I know exactly what the young master's asking for. You just stand there and I'll get to it for you."

"Thank you," he says with great relief.

When he's finally sent on his way with a heavy, gleaming tray and a bone china tea set, striking white and elegantly patterned with gold leaf and navy blue designs, he's also given a plate of biscotti and a newspaper that apparently has an article Sakuya's father wants him to read. Ryouta doesn't know why he just can't tell Sakuya himself, but such is the ways of the rich, he supposes.

Upon Ryouta's arrival and explanation, Sakuya sets aside his work, nibbling at the treat as he unfolds the paper. As Ryouta pours a cup of tea, he can't help but glance at whatever Sakuya's been writing but he can't recognize the language- French, perhaps? English? He lets his curiosity drop and returns to work and neither say a thing to each other for the rest of the night.

~*~*~*~

The third day Ryouta arrives earlier than normal. He had gone home after class to see if his mother needed anything and found her asleep instead. Not wanting to wake her, he hoped getting an early start on Sakuya's rooms would mean he'd also get home earlier, in case she woke again. By now the path from the servant's entrance to the young heir's room is familiar and he smiles brightly at any of the staff he passes and they smile right back. He's only spoken with a few, but they seem rather welcoming- much more than Albert at any rate.

There's no answer when Ryouta knocks on Sakuya's door and he opens it a crack, peeking in. The place is empty which is definitely a first. There's another set of double doors that also receives no answer when Ryouta knocks. When he checks the washroom, his garment bag is hanging behind the door as usual so he decides he may as well start working.

He doesn't need to put the clothes on to realize something is very different. And ruffly.

Ryouta turns to the floor length mirror, holding the dress to himself and it does, very much, look more like a gothic-lolita style maid outfit than the previous week's did. The skirt is much shorter and poofier and the top more like a bodice. Looking back at the bag, the heels have become ankle strap Mary Janes with a heel at least twice as high as the previous pair and the stockings look to be thigh highs with a line running up the back if Ryouta has to guess. There's even a frilly little headpiece for him to clip into his hair.

For a moment he wonders if he should wait until Sakuya returns but... honestly it resembles the clothes he usually wears for his other jobs more than the previous uniform had so, whatever. So long as he can still move around freely, what does he care? Once dressed, Ryouta leaves to gather cleaning supplies and notices someone's put a pile of printouts on Sakuya's desk. It's hardly any business of his, so he pays it no mind. Upon his return, though, Sakuya is standing by his desk with a sheaf of paper in hand and a plate of what looks like apple slices. His hair is damp, curling slightly at the ends and he's wearing what looks like a light but warm jacket and soft, loose pants. He's also barefoot which, for some reason, Ryouta finds amazing.

Ryouta clears his throat and says, "Welcome back! I didn't see you when I got in."

"Kawara? What are you-" Sakuya nearly chokes on his apple, " _what are you wearing_?"

He pauses halfway through the door. "It's what you had hanging in the washroom for me. I was wondering why you changed it."

Sakuya's turning pink and it looks good in contrast to all the whites he's wearing. "I changed nothing of the sort! Why on earth would I want-" his eyes narrow dangerously and he hisses out, " _Yuuya_. I _knew_ I saw that empty-headed fool slinking around earlier! How dare that rat enter my private quarters!"

"Hey hey, Sakuya- it's okay! I don't mind at all. I'm used to wearing this kind of stuff."

"This has little to do with you and your comfort with women's clothing, Kawara! This is about propriety!"

Ryouta just shrugs and goes to pull out a stepping stool so he can start dusting the high shelves. "Suit yourself. I'll be working." When he stands, he sees Sakuya's eyes flicker up to his face as if he'd been caught doing something. It's then he notices that Sakuya's top is partly unzipped, showing an awful lot of pale skin. Ryouta's seen him bare chested plenty of times as they changed for gym, but he still can't help wondering how someone who whines so much about exercising can be so in shape. "So what were you doing?"

Sakuya crosses his arms over his chest and it seems less an attempt to be haughty and more an attempt to cover himself up surreptitiously. "I was swimming, if you must know."

"I didn't know you liked to swim."

"I do not."

"Then why would you-"

"A nobleman must not let his health fall into disrepair." Each word gets bitten out like a particularly disgusting piece of taffy. "Even if it means doing something as distasteful as 'exercise'."

Sometimes Ryouta can't believe how childish Sakuya can be. "If you say so." Ryouta can't imagine what it would be like to have a private swimming pool. He can barely swim himself, but it seems like it would be fun.

Even in the new heels he has to stretch up to reach the highest shelves, but nothing requiring care is up there so it doesn't take long to dust. When Ryouta rocks back on his heels, he sees Sakuya in the mirror, eyes darting away from somewhere near the vicinity of Ryouta's legs.

Interesting...

"You always seem to be working on something," Ryouta says neutrally. "What is it? It doesn't look like schoolwork."

That rallies Sakuya's attitude and he snaps, "It's of no business of yours." He sits in his chair and pointedly buries his nose in his papers, indicating the conversation and all subsequent ones are over.

Ryouta just lets him have the final word. Nor does he point out all the times he notices Sakuya's eyes straying toward his legs all night.

~*~*~*~

At first, after Ryouta finds his new uniform hasn't changed and Sakuya makes his token remarks about it and his half-brother, it seems as though the fourth trial day would end much as the others, with little to no words exchanged between the two. Despite the check he receives upon leaving each day and the promise of full employment, Ryouta has to admit that it's a pretty boring way to go through work and time seems to drag on.

The monotony of it all is probably why it takes him a moment to notice Sakuya humming to himself. The melody is long and sorrowful as Sakuya's free hand taps out each note, as if his desk is the accompaniment and Ryouta stops his cleaning so the brush of cloth on marble doesn't muddy the sound. He strains to hear, nearly holds his breath for it, but he can hear Sakuya singing low, unaware that he's doing so, "Sa voix tendre et sonore/Comme un chant de ramier/O nuit enchanteresse/Divin ravissement/O souvenir charmant/Folle ivresse, doux rêve."

Ryouta can't stop himself from letting out a breathless, "Wow. I didn't know you could sing, Sakuya."

His classmate jolts up in his seat and that is _definitely_ something almost like panic in his expression. "I know not what you speak of."

"It was beautiful. What was it?"

"There was no such thing-"

"I don't know the language. Is it French?"

Recognizing he won't be able to deter the dark haired teen from the line of inquiry, Sakuya allows himself to slouch down in his seat, looking a little bit miserable. "It's called Je Crois Encore Entendre. From Bizet's opera Les Pêcheurs de Perles."

"You like opera? I didn't know that." That makes Ryouta pause. "I actually don't know anything about what you like. But if you like music, how come the only time you come to music class is when Hiyoko's dragging you?"

"A nobleman has no time to create the arts, merely appreciate them." If that isn't a blatant recital of some long past lecture, Ryouta will turn in his empathy card. "It is nothing worth being concerned over."

"What's wrong with admitting you like music? Lots of people do and it doesn't harm anything."

Sakuya lets out a 'hrrrrn' from the corner of his mouth and his fingers tap against his desk in a more frantic staccato. Certain he understands the real underlying problem now, Ryouta fluffs out his skirt so the numerous layers aren't trapped under him as he sits on the arm of the low-slung couch. "Is it liking music that's the problem? Or that you like to _make_ music?"

The question makes Sakuya realize what his hand is doing and he snatches it back, looking even more trapped and miserable than before. Finger tapping, Ryouta realized some time ago, was always a sure indicator that Sakuya was lost in thought or stressed, but he never imagined it was Sakuya playing imaginary keys. "For what it's worth," Ryouta says, "I think being able to make music is an amazing talent. Being able to hear all the different tones of an instrument and how to layer them all together and make something beautiful and moving. Maybe it's only because I can barely play the recorder myself," he says with a little laugh, "but having the ability to create something from nothing is a talent I respect."

Sakuya looks up, blue eyes guarded under pale lashes and from the slope of his arms Ryouta can guess he's twining his fingers together to keep them still. Ryouta gives him a smile and stands to continue cleaning. When he sees Sakuya's reflection in the mirror, he looks almost humble.

~*~*~*~

It's always easy to tell when Hiyoko is nearby with her bombastic attitude and her uncannily ability to treat everyone like her friend. Ryouta looks up from the sheet of music they're studying for the day just as she pushes the door aside and announces, "Look who I found lurking outside!"

She tugs Sakuya in by the sleeve and he tries to say with all the dignified indignation at his disposal, "A Le Bel does not 'lurk'."

"Well you weren't coming in and you weren't going away. I know because I watched you stand there for two whole minutes."

"I will not have you stalking me in school, Tosaka!"

"So I can stalk you outside of school, then?"

"In any case," Ryouta breaks in with a grin, "I'm glad you came in. Music is more fun the more people there are."

Sakuya meets his eyes briefly, then looks away with a noncommittal noise. Hiyoko sits next to Ryouta and Sakuya on her other side and when Ryouta looks passed his best friend, he's almost positive it's not the lighting that makes it look like Sakuya is blushing.

~*~*~*~

Nothing of interest happens during the third week except that Sakuya makes no move to stop Ryouta when he begins humming to himself and when Albert sees the 'new uniform' something almost like a smile twitches at his lips. It does, however, mean there's only one week left before Sakuya decides if he's a full hire or not and it actually makes Ryouta aware of something important.

He likes Sakuya.

Like likes, even.

Wants to put his tongue down Sakuya's throat because the guy's driving him crazy kind of like.

It's not like Ryouta's never thought Sakuya as attractive before. Even on the first day he couldn't help but find something in Sakuya's haughtiness and distance a little bit hot. Even his gullibility is alternately hilarious and endearing and there's no denying that Sakuya being so proactive and how he takes his duties as student council president so seriously is actually pretty sexy. And now, the way he keeps glancing at Ryouta with these almost shy little looks and that he can't quite bring himself to look Ryouta in the eye if he's been studying the shape of his legs right before...

It's maddening. It really is. Because no one's ever looked at Ryouta like that before. Even at the cafe it's always been playful and never serious but with Sakuya, he feels like someone actually finds him attractive and not just because he's wearing a skirt. Because Sakuya's been doing it more and more at school and his pale skin is terrible at hiding when he blushes, even the faintest of pinks obvious until he dips his head, letting his hair cover up his cheeks and once Ryouta noticed that Sakuya's throat also flushes, he's been dying to find out how far down it goes.

So he has to do this before a decision is made. Because he may not have the chance again, or he may make a total ass of himself and he doubts Sakuya will keep someone on staff that's made unwanted advances toward him. Or Sakuya might take the entirely pragmatic approach and keep Ryouta anyway so long as other attempts aren't made but it wouldn't matter because Ryouta will probably die of mortification anyway so-

The point being, if anything is going to come of this, it has to be this week. His plan is two-fold. On the first day, he tests the waters: stretch out his legs here, bend over a bit there, flash a bit of thigh when he can. Ryouta is the ace of the maid cafe, after all. He knows how to pose his body to look alluring without being obvious. At one point he leans back against one of the large windows taking up the wall, like he's contemplating the gathering stars as he shifts his weight off his feet. Ryouta brushes a lock of hair behind an ear, finger trailing down the length of his neck, lingering over the hollow of his throat before continuing to the ribbon tied on the front. He toys with the ends until he's certain that Sakuya is watching and then, seemingly idly, he pulls it slowly until the bow starts coming undone-

Even if he's milking it for all he's worth, Ryouta didn't expect to hear Sakuya's pen snapping. He hurries to the desk where Sakuya is quite possibly cursing up a French bluestreak, ink globbed all over his paper, the desk, his hand. "Are you okay?" Ryouta asks, "What happened? Did- how did you break a _metal tip_?"

"It was faulty, possibly rusted," the answer is a little too quick, Sakuya's cheeks flushing and he takes a handful of tissues to try and clean off his fingers.

Ryouta intercepts him, taking Sakuya's soiled hand and rubbing his thumb up the length of inked fingers wrapped in soft cloth. Blue eyes flicker up on reflex and Ryouta smiles warmly as he says, "As your maid, it's my duty to clean up for you." Then his smiles turns decidedly less... innocent. "Master."

Sakuya's face turns bright red before he jerks his hand back and all but stumbles toward the washroom. "I-I can deal with a simple task like this!" His voice is high and tight as he firmly shuts the door behind him. "Clean the desk at once! I will harbor not a single stain on the finish!"

"Yessir," Ryouta tells the door, trying not to start laughing. He wipes off the desk, carefully dabs the excess ink from the page and disposes of the broken pen. Tiptoeing- as much as one can in heels -Ryouta presses an ear to the door and he can hear water running even though Sakuya is sure to have finished cleaning his hands some time ago. So Ryouta goes back to cleaning the rest of the room and even when it's done and the supplies have been put away, Sakuya still hasn't returned.

The water is still running and Ryouta knocks. "Sakuya? Are you still in there? I'm done cleaning and I need to change." He can hear shuffling and then the water abruptly stops. There's the sound of a door opening and shutting nearby and Ryouta calls out again, "Sakuya?" He slowly opens the door, peeking in cautiously. The room is empty- Sakuya obviously used the second door, the one that presumably leads into the bedroom. Unpinning the headpiece from his hair, Ryouta slips in and laughs to himself. He almost wishes he brought a garter to 'accidentally' leave behind.

The interest is there, obviously, it's just a question in getting him to act on it. The second part of the plan will be fun. All Ryouta needs is the proper setup...

~*~*~*~

He finds it in school when the class plays volleyball during gym, volunteering to be on Hiyoko's team though mainly because she's playing opposite Oko. For the rest of the day, Ryouta occasionally rubs his arms and stretches out his shoulders until Hiyoko asks, "You okay?"

"Haha, yeah," he smiles that disarmingly innocent smile that used to always get him an extra tip from customers. "Volleyball's a little tougher than I remember. So much for upperbody strength."

"OKOSAN TAKES NO PRISONERS!" Is the victorious call from the back of the room, loud enough it wakes Nanaki-sensei from his doze.

"What? Where- oh. Yes. Integers."

As the lesson continues, Ryouta thinks he sees Sakuya's eyes flicker over him and Ryouta has to bite his lip to keep from grinning over what he has planned.

~*~*~*~

"Sakuya," Ryouta calls out meekly, sticking his head out of the washroom. "Could you help me, please?"

The teen in question puts down a book, some thick tome with 'finance' written in the title. Despite the fact that Japanese isn't his first language- not even his second, from what Ryouta's heard -he's still perfectly capable of reading such a complex thing and that's pretty admirable on its own. "What is it, Kawara?"

"Gym took more out of me than I expected today and..."

Sakuya's gaze is suspicious. "Are you asking for the day off?"

"No, no! I was just hoping that you could help me with my uniform? I'm a little sore so some parts are a little difficult on my own."

"I do not have the time to baby my own staff, Kawara." But he marks his page and sets the book aside anyway. "What do you require assistance with?"

Ryouta exits the washroom, almost entirely done up as usual. "Just the zipper and the straps on my shoes."

"Very well, come here."

Before Sakuya has a chance to swivel his chair to one side, Ryouta, daringly, slides into that tight space between Sakuya and his desk and lifts one leg up, just barely resting against Sakuya's thigh. Blue eyes flicker from Ryouta to the undone heel and back again, almost in a panic and Ryouta gives a warm smile, though the warmth in his belly might have turned it more... seductive. "You can touch," he almost can't hear himself over the pounding of his heart, "I don't mind."

For a long moment Sakuya just stares at him and, for a moment, Ryouta thinks he mis-predicted his reaction. Then Sakuya's eyes drop and his hands come up, knuckles just brushing against Ryouta's ankle and his eyes are more focused on the shadows of petticoats against bare thighs than they are on fastening the strap. When Ryouta switches feet, he presses the tip of his shoe dangerously close to Sakuya's crotch and he can just feel him, barely see the shadows in his lap responding to the scene before him. Automatically Sakuya's hand comes up, cupping Ryouta's calf and moving him to rest against a thigh instead. Ryouta doesn't know if it's Sakuya's hand that's shivering or himself and feeling that long-fingered hand skimming down the back of his leg to his ankle alone makes Ryouta hard quicker than he's ever been in his life.

He finishes the strap with something like a caress and when Sakuya looks up, Ryouta has to bite back a moan because his pupils are blown out, making the blue of his eyes that much more vivid and the pink on his skin looks like it's been done with an artist's loving brush. Ryouta stands and turns and suddenly finds himself barely able to breathe and even less able to talk. "C-Could you... um..."

He hears the chair being pushed back and then Sakuya's hands are at his hips. He's so close Ryouta thinks he can feel the heat coming off his body, feel each exhale against the back of his neck and Ryouta has to close his eyes and shiver as the zipper closes over the length of his spine, one inch at a time. When he turns, Sakuya is right there, gripping the top few layers of Ryouta's skirt, not yet daring to to hold him.

"Kawara," he's never heard Sakuya's voice like that before and it makes Ryouta shiver, makes him want to bury his face against that long, pale throat and feel him saying his name over and over. Then Sakuya pulls away and stumbles over his words, "You should get to work."

Ryouta lowers his eyes in acquiescence, which also allows him to see just how Sakuya's body is responding to him. He smiles a little wickedly when he looks back up. "You should take care of yourself, too." As Sakuya opens his mouth to protest, Ryouta cuts him off with a little purr of a laugh. "I don't mind if you do. Or if you watch. If I did, I wouldn't be doing this. It's okay if I say it's okay, right?"

He slides out from around Sakuya and walks toward the cleaning supplies with a sashay that makes the petticoats swish around his thighs. And then he cleans. His posing is a bit more blatant this time, but Ryouta cleans and counts the minutes in his head until he thinks Sakuya has become comfortable again, or at the very least less panicky. Ryouta looks over his shoulder and the other teen is back in his chair watching, a thumb barely rubbing against the zipper of his slacks. Their eyes meet for a moment before Sakuya looks away almost shyly, but his thumb doesn't stop moving.

Ryouta continues the show, stealing glances at Sakuya from the mirror and when he sees the strokes getting firmer, more deliberate, he can feel his own dick growing hot and thick. At one point Ryouta bends over, nearly completely, simply to pick up a stepping stool and even halfway across the room he can hear Sakuya's sharp intake of breath. When he stands and turns, Sakuya has a palm kneading his crotch and a knuckle between his teeth. Ryouta takes the stool and sets it down right next to the large chair and it's too far from the wall to do anything resembling an efficient dusting but close enough the lace of the skirt will probably brush against Sakuya's hair.

So Ryouta cleans and Sakuya lets out something almost like a sigh before a hand palms up Ryouta's knee, curving around until it passes the top of the stocking, warm skin on flushed thigh, and grips it tight. The move is much more forward than Ryouta's expecting right now, but Sakuya's always been the proactive sort and it makes Ryouta's thighs squeeze together reflexively, trapping Sakuya's hand in place and both let out something like a whimper. With his hands shaking too much to attempting at even pretending to clean, Ryouta grips the back of the chair instead. He can feel Sakuya's breath against his thigh, quick and hot and wet, and Ryouta can't stop himself from rocking, from wanting that hand higher...

It moves higher, fingers kneading one plush cheek and Sakuya's breath stutters momentarily. "You're... you're not..."

Ryouta grins at the amazement in his voice. "Keep looking."

Sakuya's thumb runs small circles against the skin, raising shivers as it goes, until it slips in the cleft of Ryouta's ass and finds the edge of material. Of something like lace. He lets out a breath like a gasp and Ryouta can feel his lips burn through the stocking on his thigh. Sakuya's thumb follows the line of the thong down to where it tucks between his legs, where it flares out wide, until he can feel Ryouta's balls straining against the material. He just rubs there, that sensitive area underneath that feels like every nerve ending in Ryouta's body has relocated there but it's not enough, not nearly enough, and Ryouta rocks into Sakuya's hand with his thighs quivering and head thrown back.

"Please," his eyelashes flutter and he wants more, wants everything and he can feel the dress pulling tight across his chest. "Please..."

Sakuya lets out something that's almost like a growl, Ryouta's surname smothered against his thigh. Sakuya's thumb alternates between pressing up until he gets a whine and running his nail lightly back and forth until Ryouta's rocking against him again. All Ryouta can go is just cling to the chair and beg for more.

He has to pull away when he realizes the chair is holding more weight than his legs, heels unsteady on the stepping stool and he stumbles a bit as he steps back, running into Sakuya's desk hard enough to make things rattle. When sees the scene before him, all the air rushes out of Ryouta's lungs like a punch in the chest.

Sakuya's slouching in his chair, the top few buttons of his shirt undone, hair sticking to the sweat at his neck and flushed cheeks. His bottom lip is swollen like he's been biting it and he looks helplessly up at Ryouta, unable to stop the hunger he feels as he looks at the dark haired teen and the pale skin of his wrist flashes against the open fly of his slacks, hand pumping at his dick just out of sight. Ryouta is left feeling just as helpless, wanting to fall to his knees and climb on Sakuya's lap and suck his tongue until things start making sense again. Instead he stands there, mezmorized by the erotic picture Sakuya makes, caught up in the soft sounds Ryouta strains to hear, all the little shudders and caught gasps and pale eyelashes casting fluttering shadows on high cheekbones and Ryouta grabs himself through his skirt and says in a thin, lost voice, "God, Sakuya..."

Sakuya comes with a sharp cry that's startling after all those breathy moans and Ryouta squeezes himself tight to keep from coming himself at the way Sakuya goes boneless and how his throat moves in the light. He's hard. He's still so hard but Ryouta is almost afraid to move and break the moment because Sakuya is just so beautiful right now.

It takes a minute or so before the Le Bel heir pulls himself together, piece by piece, and when his eyes open again they're nothing close to cool or distant. Sakuya pulls his hand from his slacks, coated and smeared white, and makes a motion for his desk. "The tissue paper," his command is shaky but Ryouta starts to moves on reflex. The moment a memory flashes in his head, however, he grabs Sakuya's wrist instead.

"As your maid," his heart is racing again, "it's my duty to clean up for you. Master."

Sakuya's pupils dilate on the word and grow even larger as Ryouta encloses his mouth around a finger, tentatively lapping at it. The taste is... different. Not quite like his own and Ryouta sucks two fingers clean before he can decide if he likes it or not. It's a little sweeter than Ryouta's own and he can't help the impish little voice in his head that wonders if it's a noble's genetics that makes it so smooth.

He runs his lips over the shape of nails, teeth against knuckles, tongue in the space between fingers until even the phantom traces of cum is cleaned from his hand; then Ryouta does it again so he can learn the taste of Sakuya's skin just as intimately. He finds the pulse in Sakuya's wrist, where the skin is thin and pale, all long tendons and blue veins and Ryouta traces each of them until Sakuya sounds like the most broken, beautiful thing as he breathes out, "Kawara..."

Ryouta can tell, just from the sound of his voice and the tension in his wrist, that Sakuya is hard again. He looks down at Sakuya's undone slacks, then up at the teen himself, licking his lips and Ryouta has never felt such purpose before. Has never wanted anyone as badly as he wants this right now.

He grips Sakuya's pants and slides it down, but the material gets caught between the young heir and the cushion. Ryouta's brow furrows and he tugs a little more pointedly but Sakuya's hips remain planted. The way he looks from the chair to Ryouta with defiance makes it obvious that he has absolutely no plans to potentially ruin what must, indeed, be a genuine leather seat. With a sigh, Ryouta unties his apron and holds it out wordlessly. It only takes a mere second of debate before Sakuya takes the material and covers as much of the chair as he can.

Ryouta wants to make a comment about Sakuya's priorities, but the last thing he wants right now is to be lectured so he just takes advantage of Sakuya's half rise to tug all the clothing down to his knees, drawing out a reflexive yelp. He preemptively stalls any complaints by running the tip of a finger along Sakuya's cock, a stifled sound his response. Even here Sakuya is beautiful, his pale skin flushed at the belly, along his inner thighs and his dick dark and heavy, wreathed by soft, pale curls.

Ryouta swallows hard and looks up. He hesitates, but not because he's second guessing himself. "I've never done this before," he admits, "so just tell me if I'm doing something wrong." Sakuya just nods quietly, tentatively letting a hand run through long, dark hair. Ryouta is fairly certain no one has done anything like this to Sakuya and that gives him a bit of confidence when he leans in and licks at the smear of cum at the crease of a his thigh.

There's a sharp intake of breath and a brief tug at his hair, but little else, so Ryouta moves to the next stain, lapping up the mess low on Sakuya's belly, not allowing anything more than the soft strands of his dark hair to touch Sakuya's erection until everything else in clean. Then he licks his way up the shaft, tongue and lips wiping up the last remnants of his orgasm before Ryouta sucks the head into his mouth, tongue pressing against it, trying to figure out how to fit his mouth over the shape. He breathes hard through his nose, slowly moving further down the shaft as his throat works experimentally. He tries to swallow around Sakuya, tongue pressing harder than he meant and that makes Sakuya gasp and buck and Ryouta has to pull off entirely to cough and not gag.

"Sorry," Sakuya says, his eyes half-lidded, part feverish and part desperate and Ryouta bets he isn't even aware he said the word. But Ryouta heard it and that makes him even more determined to make this experience the best possible. Or, if he really wants to be hopeful, the best possible at this time.

He takes a moment to think about what feels best to him when he masturbates. He cups Sakuya's balls, rolling them in his palm as he carefully watches the other teen's reaction and the way his head tosses back and his shoulders shudder is so beautifully dirt that Ryouta can't stop himself from sucking Sakuya's dick back in his mouth, bobbing his head shallowly until Sakuya's hips strain under his hand and the room is filled with breathless little cries. Ryouta can feel every moan as it starts at the base of Sakuya's spine and vibrates out, making Ryouta's blood run like heat and light speed. He moans around Sakuya, making him writhe, making him moan louder and Ryouta can't think of anything more amazing than this. It's not the fact that he's on his knees, frantically pulling at his own cock through a skirt as he sucks off the most handsome guys he's ever known, superiority complex or not. It's everything that's led up to the moment- that the snide looks from the beginning of the school year could even make way for an event like this.

Ryouta's rhythm fumbles as his hand works faster over himself and he comes, groaning hard around Sakuya's dick and that, in turn, makes Sakuya come again, quicker, quieter, just one short spurt against Ryouta's tongue before he goes limp again. Ryouta swallows reflexively, pulling back enough so he can rest his forehead against Sakuya's thigh and try to catch his breath.

The clock chimes and it's far later than it should be. "Oh, damn- I need to go. Uh," with all his plans for seduction he only now realizes how little cleaning he'd gotten done.

Sakuya stands, readjusting his clothes and suddenly looking as unflappable as ever. "This room no longer requires your service."

Ryouta winces. Guess he really did ruin his chance...

He's distracted from his misery when Sakuya goes to the double doors and opens them to a room he'd never seen before. "This one, however, has been somewhat neglected." From around Sakuya's shoulders, Ryouta can see a large, curtained, four-poster bed and the heat comes back to him in a rush. Sakuya continues on with a cool glance back, "I will allow you use of my washroom if you wish to clean yourself. Leave your undergarment with your uniform and I shall have it cleaned as well."

"But... I didn't bring any extra."

The smile that crosses Sakuya's lips and the way his eyes rake down Ryouta's thighs makes him want to start lavishing attention in the other room right now. "What a shame," he says simply, like he knows Ryouta is going to do exactly what he says and Ryouta knows he will, too, because imagining Sakuya imagining Ryouta without underwear is...

Ryouta hurries to the washroom before his hormones overwhelm him completely. He'll have enough time over the weekend to rerun the events over in his mind until the memories wear down and the last thing he sees of Sakuya is that hungry, yet satisfied grin that haunts him well into the night.


End file.
